He is the dentist i went to when I was small. I am too big of a wuss to find a new dentist near my home so I only go when I'm in utah. This satisfies me. My dentist is a good man who likes to give me pain. It is the very definition of our relationship. We know I am tough but I think I have sensitive teeth. It doesn't take much to make them cry. And a drill that sounds like Satan & that feasts on your tender tooth nerves ne'er makes a happy memory. And more than once has my dentist been surprised when I still expressed discomfort (or excruciating agony) after the 20th shot had been administered. This makes me believe that my teeth are special. Special in that they suck because I always get cavities and it always hurts to drill them. I am in disbelief when I hear people say it never hurts them. I'm pretty sure their dentists are actually drilling their teeth with cotton swabs and marshmallows. And hearing that it doesn't hurt other people makes me question my dentist and his abilities but you know, I think he's alright. I really think it's just me. And I've been going to him so long. If I'm going to be in hell every two years, I'd like it to be a familiar hell.
Along with the drilling, he likes to tease and taunt me while he works. This is particularly painful because I can't respond and it really kills me. He loves this. "Ohp, what's that? Sorry, don't talk. I have to work." @#$%! Next time I'm bringing a white board and marker. [vigorously writing]: "I....hate...you..." (yeah, that's the best comeback i have. I hate you! I am thinking there may be a bit of regression going on when i am in the dentist chair) He told me he just couldn't see me as a city girl and I told him it's because the only time he sees me is in my most vulnerable state. I told him that I'm actually rather tough. He said, "You'd have to be." And I said, "well yes you would, to come here." ZING! Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't zing my dentist when he carries my fragile life in his hands. But anyway, he also loves telling me jokes that make me and the dental assistant almost cry. Here is the latest:
A man's parents are in the hospital, having undergone major surgery. Finally, after many hours, the doctor enters to give the man a report on his parents. "Well," he says, "I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that your parents are in a near-vegetative state. They are incontinent and you will need to change their diapers. They suffered major brain damage and they will be a huge burden to you and your family." "Oh no," says the man. "What's the good news?" The doc says, "the good news is that I'm just kiddin'. They didn't make it."
Now, I'm already in a weak state. Were this surgery and an actual life-threatening situation, this kind of thing would be enough to send someone downhill to the flat line, and fast. But since it's not, I just groan at the joke and try not to put claw marks into the arm rest. I like to complain. He tells me to stop whining. I tell him to stop hurting me. He tells me to floss. I tell him "touché" and after he's done drilling my 3 small cavities, I thank him for fitting me into his tight schedule and he gives me a hug and says he'll be working for 5 more years so he can take care of me until then. Thanks, Doc.